


Winter Warmth

by GunnerPalace



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunnerPalace/pseuds/GunnerPalace
Summary: Ichigo and Rukia have more than one way of getting warm during wintertime. Originally published on Tumblr as a birthday gift.





	

Rukia sighed as she finished making yet another cup of coffee and fastened a lid to it. She put on a practiced smile as she set it on the pickup counter. "Butterscotch latte for Yamada- _san!_ "

The man in question was already there to retrieve it and thank her.

"Thank you, and enjoy!" she said back. She waited until he turned and let her expression fall, making her way back to the register with downcast eyes. Having to work the coffee stand by herself for four hours was murder—mostly through boredom, but occasionally through terror given the number of people who'd queue sometimes.

She stopped automatically as she got to the checkout counter, starting the usual greeting before she even looked up. "Hello and welcome to—"

Rukia halted at the familiar, cocky smirk that greeted her. Her gaze zoomed up to meet chocolate eyes and warm, sun-kissed orange hair. She stared for a second.

Ichigo smiled. He'd spied her from a distance and seen how weary she looked; yet there she was with such a sudden, lively glow to her features. "Yo."

She blinked before her eyelids drooped in disapproval. "Fool! Why'd you come back again?" It was the third time he'd been by that day.

Ichigo's expression soured at her attitude. He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his head. His other hand tightened around the bouquet of flowers he was hiding behind his back. "Huh!? What?"

"You know I can't leave until my shift is over!" The first time had just been to chat and she'd told him off. The second, he'd been playing hero by trying to get her to quit early and she'd shooed him away.

He scowled at her before bringing his free hand forward to check his watch. It was ten minutes until the stand closed. He squinted dubiously.

Rukia closed her eyes and lifted a hand professorially. "You can't just idle in line to talk to me when there could be customers!"

Irritation growing, Ichigo glanced sideways before pointedly turning his head. There was nobody else in line. Hell, there wasn't much of anybody in the hallway concourse. Even the late classes had let out an hour ago—the university was already deserted.

"Ikumi- _san_ was very clear that I—"

She stopped lecturing and looked at him as his hands thumped on the counter between them. Ichigo watched her intently as if issuing a challenge.

Rukia glanced down. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink when she spotted a small bouquet of red camellias and bluebells around a solitary red rose. It took several long moments before she noticed he'd also put his credit card down.

"Then I'll take some chamomile tea; you can close up after making it. Stop telling me to leave you here and run off... it's so annoying! I told you, I don't care what you say. Heh. This is the second time now... I've come to save you, Rukia."

Rukia's cheeks flared even brighter; she didn't dare look up from the flowers. There was a lengthy silence.

Finally, she turned and began to busy herself with making the tea. "I... I won't thank you for this, idiot!" she murmured.

Ichigo moseyed over to the pickup counter and waited with a knowing smile, merely watching her work in silence.

She got his tea steeping and charged him, then began to get the stand in order for the night, shutting things down and covering them. Soon enough, Rukia set his tea on the counter in front of him with a pout. She still refused to meet his gaze.

He returned to the checkout counter and pocketed his card, leaning idly against the stand as he sipped the drink. She'd made it the way he liked it: honey, lemon, and a small splash of milk. Something about it reminded him of her.

Rukia stole glances of him occasionally while she finished tidying up. She stowed her work apron under one of the counters, then retrieved a navy double-breasted wool coat along with her bag. She had on a black ribbed turtleneck, a high-waist plaid skirt, and leggings to brace against the cold. As she left the stand she shrugged the coat on, stopping beside him to pick up the flowers.

Ichigo side-eyed her before shifting his drink to his left hand. The back of his right nonchalantly brushed her left as he looked the other way.

Rukia was covertly eyeing him as well, but slid her hand around to interleave her fingers with his. At the same time, she brought the flowers up in front of her and made a show of considering them and inhaling their scent.

Taking the hint, Ichigo guided her along in silence toward the farthest exit that'd lead them back to his place. He only piped up once they finally drew near: "There was a light snow falling when I came in. You want to use an umbrella?"

She shot an incredulous look at him. "Don't be ridiculous."

He smirked.

* * *

They wandered west through the glittering shadows of Tokyo University’s Komaba campuses to his apartment in Shimokitazawa. In reality it was  _their_  apartment. She still had a room at the Mitaka International Hall of Residence, but had moved most of her things in with him, and rarely had cause to return.

Soon they were inside the quaint little space, slipping their shoes off by the door.

Rukia wordlessly carried the flowers deeper into the apartment. They needed a vase and some water.

Ichigo left her to it, pulling off his jacket and making his way to the couch. He sank into it with a sigh and rubbed his hands together. Both of them had eaten already—they didn’t have time that semester for elaborate date nights on Fridays, and saved fun or fancy dinners for the weekend. But, there were other perks...

Within a minute, Rukia had returned. She stalked up to the couch, slid off her coat, and tossed it aside with a flourish. She sat beside him primly even as a shiver overtook her.

He gently pulled her against him.

The action made her lips quirk and her eyes narrow in suspicion, but she still pressed closer, moving so she sat between his legs. " _Somebody_ sure is presumptuous."

His arms tightened around her. "Shut up, I know you’re cold."

She let out a huff, but tellingly did not pull away. His long-sleeved shirt hardly did anything to contain his warmth—it radiated over her.

Ichigo reached to the armrest nearest his head for a throw blanket and flung it open, draping it over the two of them. He delayed only to turn on the TV and change the channel, then flopped to one side so Rukia was cradled against him.

She settled in, just basking in his presence. There were only so many ways to warm up in the winter and cuddling with him was a lot better than the two of them huddling under a  _kotatsu_.

He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in her scent as he rubbed her back.

They’d actually started dating in their second year at Karakura High School—a year after she’d transferred in—and had spent their fair share of time around  _kotatsu_  before taking the first steps toward their modern ritual late that winter. They’d long since developed an unspoken and informal rule not to tease each other when getting warm. It dovetailed neatly with their other tradition of watching movies on Fridays.

"Have a lot of homework?" he whispered.

She shook her head and murmured, "No."

"Me neither."

"Mmm." Her fingers dug into his shirt, pressing against his pectorals.

He kneaded her shoulders through the thin fabric of her turtleneck.

By the time the movie they’d agreed on began, Rukia was snuggled against him, perfectly content.

"Hey, it’s starting."

She hummed, but only reluctantly spun around to spoon with him.

He slipped his arms around her waist and brought his chin to rest on top of her head.

They watched a subtitled version of  _Mr. & Mrs. Smith_ without comment—other than swapping a few light pinches—until the shootout scene in the couple’s home.

Rukia found herself tensing as the two pointed guns at one another, only to blink as it transitioned into a make-out session... and more. She watched intently for a while until her focus drifted down. She bit her lower lip and ran her hands along Ichigo’s arms, suddenly very aware of exactly how muscular they were.

His attention easily gravitated toward the motion and his eyelids drooped. He grasped her side with one hand and freed the other to play with hers. His fingertips skimmed over her delicate skin, teasing.

Rukia clasped his hand in both of hers. He’d been sweet, in his own way. They hadn’t had much time together that week, and they had another tradition on Fridays too...

Ichigo closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head, brushing the back of his fingers against one of her palms.

She shut hers too and tugged the hem of her turtleneck out from under her skirt. Once it was free she guided his hand under the waistline.

He let out a slow exhalation as he stroked her belly. She was silky smooth, but firmly toned, and he could feel her abs clench and relax under his touch. He circled her navel with his fingertips before gently pressing his middle finger into it with just a hint of suggestion.

Rukia swallowed a sound and let him dally and tease for a while until she silently slid his hand upwards to brush silk and lace. She drew his other hand to the clasp of her skirt.

Ichigo undid it with polished efficiency. He slipped into the loosened garment, took the top of her leggings, and smoothly tugged them down to around her mid-thighs.

She let out a quiet gasp at the sudden motion, pressing against him. It was all too easy to feel him through the thin layers of fabric separating them.

He brought his palm to rest on her lower abdomen and caressed downward until it snared against more silk and lace. A smile formed on his lips—she didn’t always dress up for him. Maybe they’d had the same ideas after all. He let his fingers spiral onto the fabric, circling lower and lower.

Rukia clenched her jaw and curled forward slightly to press her back against his stomach and her chest and pelvis into his hands.

Right then, Ichigo’s fingers danced across the crease in her panties where the lining started. He moved his hand between her legs to cradle her mound and cupped one of her breasts through her bra.

She let out an audible exhalation and shuffled, cupping her smaller hands around his. Her legs were trapped by both his body and her own clothes. She couldn't—

He lightly squeezed her through her underwear.

A soft moan escaped her. She started to roll her hips subtly so she rubbed against his hand and the hardness pressing into her rear. "Ichigo..." she breathed.

"I’m here, Rukia. Talk to me."

She clenched her hands to keep them under control, and thought. Walking would be... awkward. "Carry me."

He kissed the top of her head again and started to sit up and turn. He adjusted his grip and picked her up in a bridal carry, blanket and all.

Rukia brought her arms up around his neck and buried her face against his warm skin.

Ichigo bore her to the bedroom, the movie completely forgotten. All he could think about was the heat of her cheeks and breath on his skin—the dampness on two of his digits.

He got one leg onto the bed, then the other, shimmying forward before lowering her onto the center of it.

Rukia issued a sigh of relief as she hit the mattress, only to start when his lips crashed into hers. She moaned again as his tongue playfully pushed past her lips.

Ichigo used his body and the blanket to pin her down as he explored her mouth.

Her back arched and long seconds passed before she turned her head. "I—Ichi... go..." she murmured. Her head swam with how much she needed him.

"Talk to me," he repeated. There was an urgent undercurrent to his voice, almost a growl. He knew what  _he_  wanted, but it took two to tango.

She flushed in the darkness and shut her eyes. They didn’t usually  _talk_  and she was already wet. "I... Please."

Ichigo kissed his way down her chin and jaw and gently bit her throat, encircling her wrists and trapping them against the mattress. It could be any way with her, and had historically been  _every_  way—she could be demure or saucy, submissive or commanding, and all points in between. They’d covered the whole spectrum from ephemeral touches to breaking furniture. This... this was Rukia wanting it—bad.

She once more arched her back in acquiescence and began to repeat his name again.

"Don’t beg," he instructed. He kept his voice mild but firm.

Her eyes fluttered open and she went from pink to red at his tone.

He kissed her softly. If she wanted him, he wouldn't tease her... too much. "Don’t beg... until I give you something to beg  _for_." Before she could say anything, he released her wrists and turned her over beneath him.

She let out a sound of surprise, but any reply she could have given was muffled against the sheets.

Ichigo pulled the blanket and her skirt away from her and got his legs between hers, spreading them apart as he hoisted her rear up so she was kneeling. One hand traced her spine under the hem of her panties. He steadily pulled them down until they pooled above her leggings, exposing her. The pale perfection of her ass stood out despite the gloom, and he could see a thin, glistening strand running between her legs and her underwear.

Rukia wiggled and turned her head as the cold air hit her. "Ah—Ichi—!" She went mute as he slapped her butt, from shock rather than any real force on his part.

While she was distracted, he hauled her clothes down to her knees so they wouldn't get any messier. He then took her turtleneck in both hands, pulling it over her head. It was bunched around her forearms when he took one and rotated it around so the shirt twisted, binding her.

But Rukia wasn’t without her pride and resisted, trying to free herself before he’d finished. Even if she was horny, she wasn't _easy_ —and she wasn't going to just let him do whatever he pleased.

With her preoccupied, Ichigo unhooked her bra and brought it up around her arms so it wasn't a bother. He then undid his pants and jerked them down to his knees with his boxers.

Rukia's fidgeting made her nipples dig into the sheets and she murmured, only to freeze at the sound of his zipper opening. She tried to turn her head to see him and had just barely managed it when his left hand came down onto the small of her back. She shivered at how possessive his grasp was before gasping as he brought the head of his cock against her delicate lips. He was so hot...

Ichigo swore under his breath. She was soaked. For seconds that felt like eternity, he just held himself to her, letting her slick him.

It wasn’t long before she couldn’t take it anymore and began to press back and down against him. She’d barely moved when he did the opposite, pushing into her. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers dug into the sheets until she had handfuls of them. "Ah!... Ahh..."

Ichigo slowly exhaled and let go of himself, considering the arch of her back as he reached forward with both hands. He clasped one over her throat, only gently squeezing, and tangled the other into her hair, pulling her head back smoothly at the same time as he thrust all the way into her.

Rukia's cry became his name, the last vowel lilting against his grip and the pitch of her voice shifting as he slid into her depths. She clenched around him as every part of her subtly shuddered.

He released her hair and leaned forward, supporting himself on an arm so his weight wasn't entirely on her. His eyes closed at the feeling of her around him.

Rukia shivered under him, letting out little gasps and moans at the way he filled her. He could always get so deep when he had her from behind...

Ichigo bit one of her earlobes and stroked her throat. "Is this what you wanted, Rukia?"

Her jaw clenched with unvoiced resistance. A beat passed before she whispered "N—No..."

He blinked his eyes open at the word and her tone—they didn’t match.

She uneasily rocked her hips forward, pressing back against him with much greater certainty. "I... want it rougher, Ichigo..."

It was his turn to blush. He smirked and pressed his cheek to hers, starting to slowly work his way to rhythmically pounding her.

She called to him with each movement. Sometimes it was his name; sometimes it was a cry of "Yes;" sometimes it was just noise so she didn’t have to hear the overwhelming sound of him sliding into her sex and slapping against her.

Ichigo took her hard, but not fast, moving in practiced ways he knew would stir her up and drive her wild.

Rukia bucked of her own accord as best she could, desperate for more attention to one spot in particular. "L—Like that—Ah!—More... oh...!—yes! Faster!"

He indulged her gleefully. "Hah... Bossy, even when you’re the one on the bottom..."

"Shut up and—and  _fuck me_ , fool!" she hissed, her want and need dripping from every syllable.

He lifted one leg at a time so they were on the outside of hers, slowly pushing them together as he took her—ravaged her.

Rukia grew louder at his forcefulness and how he seemed to swell within her. She tried to drop her head against his arm to quiet herself, only to find he wouldn’t let her. She was left to beg every way she could and drew tighter and tighter around him as he delivered her ecstasy in spades. Soon the only word she knew was his name.

Ichigo gave her a quiet, smoldering command: "Come, Rukia."

She trembled and tried one last time to defy him, but when she opened her mouth, she found she couldn't speak. Her eyelids dropped and the only sound she was capable of was "Oh," as her universe exploded in white-hot pleasure.

Ichigo plunged into her one last time as she went taut, forcing her legs together so she was around him in every way she possibly could be as she gushed.

"Rukia...!"

She was...  _everything_. He was lost within her.  _With_  her.

It was sometime later that he realized he’d collapsed with her. He rolled to one side with a small groan and held her tight, spooning with her again.

Rukia was loose-limbed and unmoving, her breathing soft and regular.

He looked down at her with immediate worry before his memory fully returned. She  _had_ fallen asleep right after a few times before. His expression grew sleepy before he sighed and shut his eyes. It had always happened when she was worn out, but wanted to be with him.

"You should’ve said something if you were that tired!" His voice carried all the soft affection it could.

Rukia’s head turned slightly.

Ichigo briefly reviewed their state of undress and decided it was something of a lost cause, given she was out like a light. He couldn’t bear to wake her, but he did manage to get his clothes off before doing the same with her leggings and panties. He then reached out for the discarded throw blanket and drew it over the two of them.

"You’ll probably be pissed at me in the morning for leaving things like this, but..." At least he’d have the advantage since she’d still be bound up.

She made a cute and quiet babble-like noise in her sleep that might’ve been a word—might’ve been his name.

"... I love you too, Rukia..." He cuddled against her and, at last, surrendered to sleep.


End file.
